Disclaimer: Oh, how I wish I owned…
This is for kh100 on LJ, theme #4 – love.
Oh, and what are those really random lines in italics starting about halfway down? I don't know either. They wrote their way in and when I tried taking them out, I realized that I didn't like this fic half as much without 'em. :)
Marluxia flips the blank card over and over in his hands.
It would be easy, so easy.
He doesn't know what's stopping him, and that unnerves him more than anything. There shouldn't be anything, he should just be able to do it without worry, like he's done to so many people so many times, and he doesn't know what's stopping him.
And here his thoughts are, going in circles. Fucking mind loops.
It's not a conscience suddenly creeping up on him. It's a voice in his head, saying Stop. No. Don't do this and he almost bursts out laughing at the thought of it being a conscience. As if the very idea of having one wasn't sickening enough, he's a Nobody, he has no emotion, and it can't be. He shakes his head, trying to clear it, and turns around.
He's reached the end of the room, for the countless time.
There was nothing to it. It was a power that only he had, the power to take away memories, and there was nothing stopping him from using it to his advantage. Why, then, wasn't he?
It didn't make sense.
Axel was in the castle. Like all the others save Larxene, sent to keep an eye on him, manipulative bastard, but there was no stopping Marluxia, not here, not for this.
At least, there shouldn't have been.
It wasn't like they had anything. Of course there was casual fucking going on, but it didn't matter, not really. How could it without hearts to make something of it?
Even if they had had something, it had all ended when Axel first laid eyes on Roxas. He always liked a challenge, and the young rebellious blond had proven to be, apparently, exactly the kind he'd been trying to find, and anyone else who got in his way be damned.
Marluxia didn't know what Axel's reaction had been when he had found out that he was going to be spending a potentially rather long time without Roxas, and he was quite sure he didn't want to. It pissed him off enough to think about Axel just leaving whatever they had when Roxas just showed up.
The card bends in his hand.
Thunk.
He stops short, and looks down and sees a kunai holding the corner of his robe. "What the hell was that for?"
Larxene glares at him. "I'm trying to read. Your pacing is annoying. Do I really need a better reason?"
He glares right back, and kneels down to get the kunai out. He twists around. Unintentionally or not, she got it right in the spot where it would be hardest for him to reach, and it bothers him.
But only slightly.
Knowing her, it was no accident. He grabs the kunai, not caring about the lightning that's crackling over it, burning his hands through his gloves as he struggles to get it out, and throws it back to her. She catches the blade between her fingers without even looking up, and goes right on reading. He looks at what she's reading, a biography of the Marquis de Sade of all things, and sneers. "Your reading choices leave something to be desired."
She looks at him, and rolls her eyes languidly. "It's in your library." She shrugs. "Your love life leaves something to be desired."
He glares at her. "What does that have anything to do with it?" He turns his back to her, and says over his shoulder, "It's none of your business, anyway."
She shrugs. "Whatever. Do what you think is best."
He whirls around, fully facing her. "I don't need your advice!"
"I wasn't giving it to you. I was being patronizing. If I were, that's some pretty shitty advice. It doesn't help at all." She goes back to her book, and shakes her head. "Men."
He stares at her for a few seconds, fuming, then leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.
He just as easily could be using a portal right now, but the walk would do better to lighten his mood, maybe get Axel off of his mind. The change of scenery couldn't hurt either.
despite the fact that everything here and in the Castle That Never Was is white, pristine white, oh how oxymoronic
There are differences in the room structure, floor structure, yes, it may be all white, but it doesn't mean that it's all exactly alike. It's different enough so they don't go in circles wandering through it, after all.
He walks, no, storms is a much better word for it, back to his room, damning everything he can think of and everything in between. When he finally gets to his room, he slams the door open, feeling slightly sated as it crashes against his wall.
There's a candle still burning on his windowsill, from where he'd left it to go try to solve the Axel problem. Part of him isn't surprised to see that it hasn't yet gone out.
Its sweet smell of roses fills his chamber. Reaching a decision, he goes over to it. The flame almost burns out as he walks up to it - were you going that fast you don't think so - and he just stares at it for a few seconds, wishing that it really would die, that he had put it out, and sooner than it seems, comes to a decision.
He holds the card to the flame, and watches it burn.
The flame meets the tip of the card, and crawls over it slowly once it catches, slower than Marluxia had thought that it would have, and soon he drops the very last square centimeter outside his fingertips of the card into the candle, and shouldn't the ashes put it out? Smother the flame?
He sighs. It doesn't matter. That stupid candle would just keep burning merrily along. He raises his hand to swipe it off of the windowsill, but decides against it at the last minute. Setting his room on fire isn't the most practical thing to do, anyway.
Did he just seal his death? Maybe. Was this the stupidest thing he had ever done? Possibly.
Either way, there's no turning back now. He narrows his eyes at the flame, burning like it hadn't just consumed anything, and turns to go further his plans with Larxene, away from prying ears, because the walls have them, always, no matter where you are, but is stopped in his tracks as he lays his hand on the door handle, because once again he feels like taking the long way. What stops him is the same thing that was stopping him before, this he's certain of, but this time, it's…different somehow.
It was stopping him from destroying Axel's memories of Roxas before, and now it was saying quite clearly You did the right thing.
But if he could regret it, he knows he wouldn't, just as he already knows that he's not going to take another card and try it anyway.
Fuck Larxene and her unintentionally accurate sentiments. Fuck them.
But just like last time, this time it isn't a feeling, because it can't it was an actual voice in his head.
wonderful just wonderful you picked a great time to go schizophrenic
He doesn't even remember what it's like to have a conscience, what it's like to have feelings, what it's like to be ialive/i, and trying to remember is more trouble than it's worth, so much more. He might have just sealed his death. At the moment, he doesn't really care. Was it the stupidest thing he had ever done? Axel had no clue what he had been considering doing, none of the others did, and he intends to keep it that way. No, he's done other stupid things that could merit that title.
yes of course it is you idiot stop trying to tell yourself it's not and you don't care either way because you do only you can't realize it and that goddamn voice-in-your-head said you did the right thing and that's all that matters you know
He feels something slowly crawl down his cheek, and puts his hand up there to see what it is. He pulls his hand away, just stares at it, and after a few seconds narrows his eyes while at the same time his lip curls in self-disgust. This is ridiculous. It shouldn't be wet, damn it, but it is.
Another one crawls down his other cheek, and he swipes it away angrily. Why the fuck is he crying? It's a sign of weakness, and it has to stop. But as soon as he tries to make himself, a pair slides down his cheeks, quickly this time. He wipes them away, two more instantly take their place.
He opens his window and just stares out over the moonlit wasteland behind the castle, folding his arms. He can't begin to fathom why it's happening – this is an emotional reaction, isn't it? It should be impossible – but just the same, he decides to give up.
Before long, his cheeks have salt-stains on them, that he reminds himself he'll have to wash off before he leaves his room again. He sighs and shakes his head, and puts his hands on the windowsill and leans out slightly, watching for nothing in particular. He narrows his eyes again, and lets the tears fall freely.
it's better to have loved and lost than never loved at all? you did the former, but it's impossible for you to know, isn't it.
i'm sorry.